A House by the Sea and a Happy Ending
by Silent Nightengale
Summary: did the phantom's death depress you? it depressed me so here's a nice thought of what might have been if only...


**Hello loves! Wrote this on a train to Rome last summer, revised it, fussed over the ending and finally here it is! It's a little risqué at the beginning but…enjoy! I do not own "Phantom of the Opera" or any of its characters.**

–**S.N.**

A House by the Sea and a Happy Ending

Christine watched in silence as Erik placed the half-conscious men on couches and gave them draughts. Raoul and the Persian each coughed on the liquid before their limbs fell limp in a deep sleep.

"They will be out for a few hours yet."

Erik turned to see Christine turn and walk as one in a dream into his organ room. He followed, glancing down suddenly as he half tripped over her shoes. Frowning a little, he looked up at her.

Several candles smoked as the flames died and the room dimmed. Her dress was unlaced and her fingers were at the shoulders.

"I turned the scorpion."

Her voice was soft and determined with just a ripple of apprehension. Her eyes were calm, but a fire burned behind them as she gazed at him.

"I have chosen to be your wife,"

Christine tugged at the sleeves. The wedding gown fell in a flowing white heap at her feet. She stepped away from it wearing only a corset and slip.

"In every way."

When Erik made no motion towards her, she glided to him, caressing his chest and shoulder. His hands slid hesitantly to her waist as she looked into his fiery eyes and drew off his mask, looking him full in the face without flinching. Faltering only a little, she kissed him.

At first he did not move, then returned the kiss, overpowering her quiet submission with passion as he pressed her close against him. She drew away slightly to meet his eyes as she stroked his cheek and combed her fingers through the graying auburn hair she had never before noticed.

He leaned forward and took control of her mouth again, his hands now seeking the laces of her corset.

Christine's heart pounded as the unwanted garment fell away. She tugged and pushed at his jacket and shirt until nothing was between her hands and his strangely cool flesh.

With an urgency that was almost violent, Erik drew her slip over her head and tossed it aside. His hands explored her body, the sensation of iciness against her burning skin making her shudder with desire.

Her own hands traversed downward across his belly and waist and a groan escaped his lips. Erik pushed her backward so she bumped into the organ, leaving the last of all cumbersome clothing behind. He lifted her slightly so she half-sat, half-lay on the tiered rows of keys.

He caressed her, kissed her; though they both trembled with need he forced himself to take her slowly, tenderly.

Her moan as he entered her was lost in the strange chorus of random chords from the organ on which they lay.

Christine started as a shadow flashed across the window.

She was in her parlor, a bright fire in the hearth and a book she hadn't been reading hanging limp in her hand. Frowning she rose and crossed to the window and gazed into the darkness. Her heart fluttered as a quiet song drifted to her through the glass.

Involuntarily whispering a prayer she hurried through the kitchen, pressing a hand to her stomach as she squeezed passed the stove and opened the servants' entrance door. Stepping out into the snow, she glanced about apprehensively.

"Erik?"

"Christine…"

After a moment a black cloaked figure stepped into the pool of light and came to her. Erik caressed her shoulders with icy, leather-gloved hands.

"Quietly, dearest…someone…may hear…"

"Oh no they couldn't possibly. God, you're freezing. Please, my love, warm yourself by the fire a moment."

Christine tugged on his hand but he resisted.

"No, your… husband…servants…"

"No one is home. Raoul is at the club and the servants have the night off; please…"

Erik allowed her to lead him into the house and to the fire. He sat patiently as Christine poured cups off hot tea. Once he had obediently taken a few sips and the worst of his trembling had been warmed away, Christine began to speak, seating herself next to him.

"I am glad you came here tonight."

Erik gazed at her sadly. "I had to…see you…just see you…"

"I'm glad, more than glad, relieved. I needed to tell you before you…but I could not sneak into the opera, not now. Raoul would be furious if I tried…" her voice faded a bit as if avoiding an unpleasant thought. She took a breath. "Erik, this child…is not Raoul's."

He frowned but did not answer.

"It's yours."

Erik stared at her. The white mask that covered his face could not hide the shack and glimmer of pleasure that crossed his visage.

"But, no… impossible…"

"It is possible, my love. I was your wife that night. It is your child."

"But… Le Vicomte…"

"I knew I was pregnant before the wedding, before I was ever with Raoul."

"He must… never know, Christine."

She bit her lip.

"He already does." Erik gave her a sharp look of concern. Quickly she added, "I did not tell him; I would not have done that. He… figured it out."

He sat back gazing at her worriedly.

"How?"

"Well, the doctor knew I had to have gotten pregnant before my wedding night but he just assumed I had been with Raoul, so he didn't say anything. About a month ago though, he made some passing comment about my being four months along but only being married for two. Raoul laughed it off and played along, but I could tell he was doing the math in his head and realizing the truth." She paused. "Neither of us has said it aloud but I can tell that he knows. Ever since that day he has been cold and…almost… cruel, in the way he talks and acts towards me; even around the servants. Several times a week he goes to the club and gets drunk after giving the servants the night off. He won't home until after eleven." Christine added softly before continuing.

"He does not dare make this known for fear of hurting his "precious reputation" even more than his recent drunken habits have. Though he would probably say you raped me anyway."

Here she made a slight flourish with her hands that made Erik give a cry and grab her wrist. Flipping back the sleeve of the protesting limb, he revealed a painful violet bruise.

"Ah, Christine… you have been cruelly used!"

She colored violently and jerked her hand away.

"Raoul can be a little …rough when he's drunk. It is nothing."

"I cannot allow him… to do this to you."

"Erik --," Her face paled as the dull clatter of hooves came from outside. "He's home! Erik, you must leave; he cannot see you here." Christine rose and pulled Erik to his feet.

"No."

"Erik, please!" She paused and touched the side of his face. "I want to stay with but if Raoul sees us together…"

"I cannot let you go again…not now."

Unsteady footsteps sounded on the porch and a key rattled in the lock. Christine hurriedly pushed Erik toward the dining room.

"Please, my love, at least hide until he's gone up to bed!"

With Erik concealed safely in the dark room, Christine sat in her original chair and pretended to read her book. Raoul stumbled in a moment later and glared suspiciously at her.

"What're you up to bitch?" he slurred.

"Nothing, Raoul. I've been sitting here reading all evening."

"Huh."

He started to go towards the stairs then stopped, his liquor soaked brain picking up on something.

"There's snow that's not mine on the carpet and one too many teacups for one little bitch. Who's been here?!" he demanded.

Still speaking in a voice of incredible calm though her fingers trembled, she said "No one, Raoul."

"You're lying again." He growled bitterly. Then at a sudden thought and a wild guess; "It was HIM wasn't it? HE was here!" He began to pace crookedly.

"Raoul, no one has been here but me." A trace of panic crept into her voice, confirming his suspicion.

"Liar! You are forever lying to me! If you can't speak the truth, you ought not to speak at 'tall!"

He snatched a letter opener from the desk and lunged at Christine. She leapt to her feet and screamed as he backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the floor. Raoul came towards her raising the knife when a dark shape slammed him into the mantle. Christine scrambled to her feet as the two men grappled.

Glancing around frantically, she grabbed a heavy vase and smashed it over Raoul's head. He promptly collapsed onto the hearth and began snoring loudly.

Erik leaned against the mantle, breathing heavily. Christine kicked aside Raoul's bulk to cross to him. They caressed each other, checking for injuries.

"Oh, Erik."

"I am… fine… just a little…breathless… are you…?"

"I'm fine. Erik, we have to get out of here. There is no possible way I could stay now. Please, take me away with you. Let us go away, far away."

He gave a shaky laugh and kissed her.

"Yes, my Angel… we'll go to some…unknown little village…and buy a house by the sea…and if we can't…find one suitable…I'll build it for you myself."

She laughed too and leaned her head against his chest with a sigh.

"Come Christine…pack what you need. We must leave now."

They made their way upstairs, where Christine paused outside her chambers.

"Pack some of Raoul's things for yourself; it is like the Artic out there and all you have is that thin cloak."

After experimenting to see what would fit (Erik was somewhat broader in the shoulders than Raoul) Erik retuned to Christine carrying a carpet bag and found her at her desk writing.

"What is that, my dearest?" he asked kissing her head and placing his hands on her shoulders.

"A letter to the Magistrate. I have told him what Raoul did and that an old friend who happened by helped me. I said I have gone far away and do not intend to ever return."

"Will they not try to find you?"

"No, I don't think so. I've worded this so I believe they will simply let it go at my testimony above Raoul's. He will still be too drunk and upset come morning to be a credible witness."

She sealed the letter and they left the chamber, each with a bag in hand as well as Christine's heavy purse, weighted with money and jewels from the bedroom safe that by law were hers anyway. She placed the note in the kitchen where the head maid would be sure to see it and glanced one last time at the thwarted drunk, who by now had curled into a ball on the rug and looked dumbly cheerful and altogether as if he were about to start sucking his thumb in perfect contentment.

"Credible witness or not, all the same, I think, my Angel, we should 'order your fine horses now' and be far away from here come morning."

Christine smiled.

"As far as the sea."

Erik kissed her again.

"So long as it is there, that is where we shall be."

Raoul was awakened the next morning by the maid to find most of his money and clothing, as well as his two best horses and fine carriage gone, in addition to his wife and her lover. The Magistrate, rather than heeding his pleas, protests and excuses, shut Raoul up for Christine's attempted murder and arranged the nullification of their marriage.

Two months later, Raoul was delivered a parcel in prison. There was no note or address; it contained only some sand, a rose and a small bronze scorpion, mocking him from the bottom of the box.


End file.
